Hometown: The Roch, MI (aka. The Crotch, aka. Crotchscratcher, aka. Crotchmolester, aka. Rochester)
Currently Living: Clawson, MI
Height: 5'8
Weight: Ha ha, yeah right
Favorite Color: Blue (preferably navy)
Profession: Researcher
Favorite Nickname: Trick, Sloan
Favorite Drinks:Vodka Tonic, Guinness, Diet Dr. Pepper, Dirty Martinis, red wine
Favorite TV Show: Friends, Sex & The City, Project Runway, The Amazing Race, Iron Chef America
Least Favorite TV Show: A Baby Story, I Love Lucy, Martha Stewart, Everybody Loves Raymond, every hour long drama
Favorite Books: The History of Love, Beloved, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Fight Club, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The of Being, SurUnbearable Lightness vivor, Empire Falls, The Corrections, The Bell Jar
Favorite Movies: Little Miss Sunshine, Anchorman, The 40 Year Old Virgin, Wordplay, American Beauty, Life is Beautiful, Amelie, Breakfast Club, Singin In The Rain, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Sleeping Beauty, Dancer in the Dark, Duets, The Virgin Suicides, The Manchurian Candidate (1962), Austin Powers I, II & III, My Best Friends Wedding, Moulin Rouge, Tommy Boy, Billy Madison, The Shining, Gone With The Wind, Bridget Jones' Diary, Chicago, Love Actually
Guilty Pleasure Movies: Xanadu, Dirty Dancing, Overboard, Groundhog Day, Steel Magnolias, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bond movies, Footloose, Clue, Murder By Death, High Spirits, A Cinderella Story
What I Do Too Much: Check email, crossword puzzles, complain about my job to friends and family,
Obsessions: sushi, Indian food, ranch dressing, toenail polish, song lyrics, hands, awards shows, symmetry, avocados, maps, dreams, This American Life, the display in my car that tracks my MPG
Pet Peeves: loud eaters, slurping, gulping, arrogance, snoring, bad grammar, repetition, late mergers, ripping cardboard, the word "chunky", intolerance, couples in a restaurant sitting on the same side of a booth, pop-up ads, privacy manager, men that drive without shirts on, being foolish, unfairly jumping to conclusions, being made fun of, cat-calling, people who type too hard
Greatest Fear: crossing bridges
Relaxing Activites: late night drives to sing by myself, headstands, hot baths,
Wish I Was: Ansel Adams, Jenifer Aniston, in love, living alone
Prized Possessions: ring from my grandparents, flower pot of my Grandma's, electric blanket (temporarily broken), tongue scraper, my bed
Craziest Thing Ever Done: getting a tattoo, strip Jenga
Things I Eventually Want To Do: skydive, buy a guitar, learn how to play the aforementioned guitar, take flying lessons, travel to France, write a novel, learn how to play the harp, tap dancing lessons, run a marathon
Thursday, December 30, 2004 I know I don't know you....Two mysteries mysteriously solved this week. I feel like friggin' Matlock or something. Which, coinicidentally, I sat down and watched an entire episode of this week. Man, is that show bad.
Mystery #1:
On Thanksgiving, my parents received an email from my aunt and uncle who live in Kalamazoo. They have two kids (my cousins), one who recently moved to Los Angeles (my future superstar cousin Ryan), and one who had been working on cruise ships for the last 8 months, Nicole. In the email, giving my parents an update of what their family was up to, my aunt mentioned that both Ryan and Nicole, in their respective locations, had run into people who knew who I was. Say what?
Now, I only know a few people in L.A., but Ryan did meet Pnut when Suzy went out to visit. So that is a likely explanation of who knew me. But on a cruise ship? There seem to be a limited number of individuals on a cruise ship at any given moment in time, so what are the chances that two people I know are on the same one and actually figure that out?
Last Monday, Amy and I got together with two of our friends, Heidi and Holly, who were the two girls that were our first friends when we moved to Rochester. And although I have multitudes of stories that I could tell about all of the most amazing fun times we've had with these girls, suffice it now to say that most of the laughing that I did between the ages of 8-17 were with them. So we met up for dinner and it ended up being a large family affair -- parents, brother, cousins (who I haven't seen since they were about 2 years old, currently now teenagers), brother's friends. It was quite a posse. And lo and behold, the first thing out of their brother, Eric's mouth was, "Did you know that I've spent the last 8 months working on a cruise ship with your cousin?" Amy and I let out a cross between an "Ah HA!" in celebration of discovering the mystery, and an "Ahhhhh," as though it were somehow obvious and we had just over-looked it. It was a moment akin to the point in Amelie when she discovers the mysterious man in the pictures isn't a ghost, but the photo booth repair man. The light shone around and the satisfaction of discovery was wonderful.
Mystery #2:
Everytime I've been getting into my car in the last couple weeks, I acknowledged an overwhelming smell of what reminds me of a cleaning solvent. I most certainly have not taken the time to ArmorAll my car recently, as evidenced by the fine layer of dust accumulating on my dashboard. And I just threw away most of the crap that had been collecting in my car. So I knew very well that there wasn't any nastiness hiding under any of the seats. So it was just a mystery. Maybe just the heat or something? Who knows.
Well, I went to put groceries in my trunk the other day, when the perpetrator of the solvent smell made his presence known. When I got my new car, I took everything from the trunk of my old car and tossed it into the trunk of my new car, including jumper cables, a gas tank, and a jug of windshield bug remover stuff. I had been warned not to put the bug stuff in my windshield wipers due to the fact that it wasn't designed to withstand extra cold temperatures. Well, this in fact still holds true if the liquid remains in the plastic container as well. Considering that many of the days of the last couple weeks were barely double-digit days, the fluid froze inside the container and cracked the plastic lid. So by the point I opened the trunk to put in my groceries, the only amount left in the container was a still frozen core that amounts to about 1/3 of the original jug. If anyone has any suggestions on how one would go about cleaning this mess so that my groceries don't smell like Windex, it would be greatly appreciated.
I'm hoping that I will be able to get my detective badge sometime in the near future....fat chance.
1:57 PM
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
By the way, I have this candle in my room that I bought at Pier One probably about a year ago. And I think I have a love affair with this scent. Because I could seriously stand over it and sniff in the aroma like a damn bloodhound. Hours. HOURS I could do this. It makes me want to shut my door and stuff towels under the crack so I don't share it's precious smell with the rest of the apartment. Yes, I'm that obsessed.
7:08 PM
And maybe she'd take me to France, and maybe in Spain, she'd ask me to dance in a mansion on the top of the hill....I'm trying to pretend to be inspired writer girl tonight, complete with glass of red wine. I was hoping to channel Sylvia Plath or something. Well, except without the whole nasty suicide bit. But with the brilliant witty writing part. But instead I'm whining on my blog about why I can't accomplish anything.
About 1 1/2 years ago, I submitted a piece of writing for the local hipster newspaper's "music edition", requesting music journalistic pieces. They would choose the best and publish them. I was called by the hipster paper telling me that I was one of the top 25 that they had chosen and that it was one of the funniest that they had received. Although I didn't end up being one of the final chosen ones (that sounds a litle religious cultish, like they were picking members for a new Dravidian Cult, southeast Michigan chapter), it was the only thing that I've ever submitted for any kind of contest or anything. And it was certainly ego-feeding and self-doubt-eliminating to hear that they thought it was any good, and that someone (other than my friends or family,) who has some bonafide writing clout gave me some props.
I have no excuse for why I haven't done anything since this time in the past year and a half. Other than getting to the point where I sit down at my computer with great ideas bursting from my head that I have jotted down all over ATM receipts and my little notebook. But I think that it's something about staring at a blank screen that daunts me. It's something about printed words on a screen that don't convey what is lurking in my head. I can edit like a fiend from a printed text, but I can't get it right on a computer.
And I've considered just writing it all out long-hand, but that has become limited to extra-short pieces. I can't even complete excessively long thoughts in my journal due to sheer laziness of handwriting. And I've even considered investing in a typewriter, hoping that the blank sheets of paper wouldn't have the same effect on my mental imbalance as a blank screen. But until recently, such purchase would have incurred wrath from the crazies that used to live downstairs. Which, in hindsight, makes me wish even more that I would have made the purchase. "Well I'm sorry, but it's my job to write, and when I have deadlines, I have to type in the middle of the night." Lie, and lie, but those would have been two lies that would have been worth it for those bastards.
So what's my point here? I can't seem to get anything done. I have about 10 different things in varying stages of completion, and I like rereading them, and find myself thinking, "Hey, I actually wrote that?" But I haven't been doing a very good job of adding anything additional to them. So there are just more and more blank pages on more and more half-finished things I've written. But since this is one of my New Year's Resolutions, I guess I should get on it, instead of typing away more and more garbage to fill up a blog.
Ya know what though? That one piece that I submitted? I actually really like it.
6:35 PM
Tuesday, December 28, 2004 These are the days that bring you meaning, I feel the stillness of the sun and I feel fine....Quite a few days to catch up on here. I'll pull the "I wasn't at home for three full days, living out of my car and sleeping on other people's couches, and therefore blogging was far from my mind" excuse. I think that should suffice.
There were mulitple moments on Christmas Eve and Day and the day after that one or more of my family members would turn to each other with their hand over their heart, and emit an "Awwww," in a sweet, bursting with love kind of way. Like when my nephew gave his gift to his mom and the excitement and happiness of giving and receiving was equally overwhelming for both of them (or like my mom said, if someone would have said "Boo", we all would have started crying). Or when my other nephew brought his newly constructed ferris wheel down for everyone to see. Or when one of the munchkins got a spare when bowling, they would all have a big jumping up and down group hug at the end of the lane. There was just so much cuteness, I couldn't even stand it!
So yes, my Christmas was excellent. I always used to kind of think Christmas was such a chore because it was always such chaos. And it always seemed like so much work to try to get everything actually working, between food and giving gifts. It was just mayhem. But somehow, I don't care anymore. Or maybe, it's just less chaotic. It seems more enjoyable now to just kind of sit back and take in the crazy, funny moments as they unfurl and enjoy those just as much. Some of my favorites of the last couple days:
~ When Suzy and I were driving out to Amy and Dave's on Christmas day, there's one house in her neighborhood that is the requisite "crazy person" house. Ya know every neighborhood has one. But one of the hallmarks of this house, is their fondness for lawn decorations. Every holiday brings about a new flock of inflatable Easter bunnies, or anything that can be used in conjunction with a garden stake. They clearly spend more money per month on lawn crap than I fork over for rent. So as we approached the house, in anticipation, Suzy and I had a drum roll and Clark Griswoldesque, "Joy to the World!". And when we rounded the corner, it was more gloriously hideous than we could have imagined. And we sat in the car in front of their house for a full couple minutes laughing at the Santa seated on the porch sans head. But as Amy pointed out later, although he's headless, he still has a beard. Go figure.
~ We had the 2nd annual family bowling fest on Sunday. And much like last year, I swear that others watching our family would likely think that we're all a little crazy. Because in the final frame, Suzy had the opportunity to steal the title away from Kevin. And after getting the strike on her first throw, all 14 of us seriously went crazy. We're talkin' every-person-in-the-bowling-alley-looking-towards-our-lane-with-a-look-on-their-face-conveying-a-"what-the-hell-are-they-screaming-about?"-moment. And inspite of Suzy picking up the spare, she was still 2 points shy of claiming the trophy. Yes, the trophy that we have. Lisa has some serious practicing to do next year to 1. break 80 and 2. to make sure her arm doesn't feel like it has been ripped out of the joint the following day.
~ My nephew Jake has a CD player that he loves and listens to non-stop. So he got a whole slew of new CDs from his aunties and Santa, and on Christmas Eve was singing along, unable to "control the VOLUME OF HIS VOICE!" So we were all privy to his renditions, consisting largely of, "Don't be so quick to, walk away."
~ Warning: always check the temperature of a hot tub before hopping in. Especially if it's only ~15 degrees outside. Because cold water in a hot tub makes it that much more miserable to get out.
~ My niece Emily got a Prince and the Pauper Barbie doll from her auntie Suzy for Christmas. And when you push a button on her, she sings a song. And lemme tell ya. I'm sure that Suzy and I were ready to rip that damn thing off the doll by the end of the weekend. I'm sure it's magnified by about 100 for her parents by now.
~ I think Catchphrase is a game designed to create hilarious moments. Especially when your mom is yelling out the answers from the other room. Especially when you're playing with an 8-year old who can come up with better descriptions for words than you. And even smart, inside joke descriptions too.
Well, I hope everyone had a lovely holiday, and is enjoying their days off. It's nice when the only things on your to do list consist of things like, "take a nap". Or "finish reading my book." It's a beautiful thing. Kisses.
10:21 AM
Wednesday, December 22, 2004 I used to worry about the future, but then I threw my caution to the wind....Recommended song for driving home on your last day of work for the year? "Canned Heat" by Jamiroquai. It'll do the trick, I promise. When walking to my car in the parking structure yesterday, I was tempted to envision my life as a musical, and it was clearly the moment that I would have been pulling out the big tap dance number with plenty of open-mouthed smiles, and jazz hands galore. Or at the very least, some clicked heels or skipping. But instead, I saved all that rocking out for the comfort of my car.
I was looking forward to last night for about 2 full weeks. It was our girls night out with my mom and my sisters, which we try to do on a semi-regular basis. But now that my mom is home for the next week, we all set aside any other things we had planned for all of us to go out to dinner together. Suzy and Amy came over early where we watched Oprah (here's me crying), and had some munchies. And appropriately when Laura and my mom showed up, the three of us hid in the bathroom to surprise them. We were the biggest little kids ever, as we were all giggling and trying not to laugh as they were coming up the stairs. We were debating what to yell when we popped out, and instead of my suggestion of, "Hey bitches!" we went with the standard "Welcome home!" But don't worry, the "hey bitches" was used later when Amy and I were pulling the car around. Right before we pulled the, doors-locked, them-trying-to-open-the-door, me-moving-the-car-a-couple-inches-forward move. (I share this paragraph with you to get a general idea of how goofy and immature we can sometimes be. But I assure you that we all laughed a hell of a lot more than any given Tuesday would normally call for).
Well, considering that I haven't started any of my Christmas shopping yet, it seems that I have a very daunting day ahead of me. I'm envisoning the shelves of Toys-R-Us barren, with the salespeople smirking at me, oozing with sarcasm, saying, "You thought you were going to buy that 3 days before Christmas??!!" Hopefully I won't have to resort to buying them socks. Wish me luck. XOXOXO
10:20 AM
Monday, December 20, 2004 I really must go, but baby it's cold outside....How can you not love the fact that the day my parents return from Florida to Michigan is clearly the coldest day of the season so far, by a long shot? I spoke to them yesterday when they were still making their way through Ohio, and my mom didn't want to say that she wasn't look forward to this visit, so as to not offend me, but it seeped through the conversation anyway. Or it could have been the straightforward response of "Yes and No," to the question, "Are you looking forward to the visit?" That may have betrayed her too.
My last exam is in roughly 4 hours. And although I made every effort to study until I could recite the assumptions for running MANOVAs in my sleep, there were two main reasons that I was not as productive as I had planned on being:
1. The exam is open note and book. So whenever I would get frustrated or bored or tired or distracted, the first words out of my mouth? "Well, I'm gonna be able to look it up anyway." Which may turn out to be a bad approach when blank stares at the page can't even guide me in the proper direction.
2. It's that good old time of year where the television is blissfully chock full of everything in countdown form. Which is one of my weaknesses. Anything numbered, listed, or with the words, "Best", "Most", "Worst", "Outrageous", "Littlest", or "Project Runway", in the title, I'm likely to sit down and watch from start to finish. And if you think I'm kidding, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that I have once watched the 25 Greatest Coaches countdown on ESPN before. I don't watch ESPN people! And I even made it a point to look up online the numbers that I had missed. And I think that all of the cable channels yesterday coordinated their schedules so I could just switch from channel to channel without a pause in my number-obsessive tv viewing pleasure. I'd hesitate to say that it was a waste of time. Oh no. Because now I know that God had a really good year, Kanye West was MTV's best vid of the year, and President Bush Sr. yarfing at a State dinner in Japan is certainly outrageous.
And in the spirit of yearly countdowns, here's Lisa's list of favorite CDs for the year ie. the ones that I've played the crap out of:
10. Jet, "Get Born" and Joss Stone, "Mind, Body and Soul"
9. The Shins, "Chutes too Narrow"
8. Wilco, "A Ghost is Born"
7. U2, "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb"
6. Jamie Cullum, "twentysomething"
5. Garden State Soundtrack
4. Toby Lightman, "Little Things"
3. Franz Ferdinand, "Franz Ferdinand"
2. Jem, "Finally Woken"
1. The Postal Service, "Give Up"
Honorable Mentions (mostly because I don't actually own them yet, which isn't entirely fair because some of the top 10 I don't own either, but sssshhhh, don't tell anyone that I may have downloaded some of the songs): The Killers, "Hot Fuss", Diana Krall, "The Girl in the Other Room," Keane, "Hopes and Fears," Elliot Smith, "from a basement on the hill," Rufus Wainwright, "Want Two," Norah Jones, "Feels Like Home."
Any disagreements to this list should not be directed to me. They should be held internally until you change your crappy taste in music and see the light. Then we can talk. Kisses. XOXOXO
1:03 PM
Saturday, December 18, 2004 Messing with the flavor oh the flavor that you savor, saving me for last but you better not eat me at all....Having fondue for a dinner party is a good idea for the simple reason that, the following day, you have scores of bread and cheese leftover to help quell the hangover. Especially when there 7 1/2 bottles of wine down. Actually 5 1/2 bottles of wine and 2 bottles of champagne. Although the drawback of fondue being that if you leave the scene in a hurry without properly cleaning or soaking, you'll wake up the next morning to a pot of solid chocolate (with the spoon securely locked into place), and congealed cheese on everything that you'll need boiling water to remove. And you'll definitely be throwing away the entire scrubby brush when you're done too.
My roommate and I have been periodically laughing throughout the morning about randomness from last night: calling our wooden spatula a "spanker", our crazy crazy neighbor who wanted us to "come up to his apartment" after we got home from the bar, the nice people at Woodruff's getting a little too much of an earfull with loud drunk girls with some pretty offensive language, and leaving people voice mail messages inquiring about the sexual orientation of another individual (I would die to hear that message by the way).
Last night was such a blast. I forgot how much fun Friday night dinners are. All of the usual suspects were in attendance (Pnut, Brian, Deb, Mike) and two new victims (two Stephanies). When we used to live in the red house, we used to have "sharing time" where everyone would go around the table and say what they did that day (both mine and my roommate's included locking ourselves out of the apartment). So we all went around the table, in a fun little sharing time that ended up taking probably close to an hour. Because we would all get a little rowdy and get incredibly off track. But I loved hearing about everyone's great days. I would highly recommend it for your next party.
The entire group mosied to Woodruff's for a drink after dinner -- like we needed anymore. But I guess when you run out of wine, you don't have much of a choice. We met up with Amy and my favorite teachers and Suzy. Where things got a little nutso. And just in case you're curious, you can pretty much get me to tell you anything if I've been drinking. Any little secret? Just pump me full of wine, and out it comes! Like who I chose for my secret santa. I pride myself on not telling anyone that dammit! Why just blab? Oh yeah, it was the wine. Hopefully a good time was had by all -- I know that I definitely did.
And I'll leave you with the story that I concluded my sharing time with, just to prove what a remarkable dumbass I am:
Yesterday I had to run down to work for a meeting. And the shoes I wear to work are always incredibly loud on the tile hospital floors. You can usually hear me coming from a couple hallways away. And on a pretty regular basis, people will comment how noisy my shoes are. So yesterday, I was in a huge hurry because I was running late, so the heels pounding were especially loud. To get to our lab, you have to go through the radiology waiting area. So I had gone through once and there was one guy waiting there. So when I was going to leave, I had to make another pass through. And the same guy was waiting there. So when I went by the second time, he said, "Is that you making all that noise?" My response? "I definitely can't pull a sneak attack in these shoes." As soon as it was out of my mouth I instantly thought, "Who the fuck says that to a veteran??!!" If there is only one demographic of people that would be offended by such an innocuous comment, it would probably be a veteran. And of course I'm the dumbass who said it. Way to go Lisa. Way. To. Go.
1:47 PM
Friday, December 17, 2004 It's the most wonderful time of the year....Yesterday couldn't have turned out any better than if I had actually willed it to happen the way it did. And I think it's fair to say, I'm completely smitten.
He's been mentioned here before: eye candy in my department, hair that I'm crazy about (more about that in a sec), Orlando Bloom's long lost twin (more on that in a second), having a fun crush, assuming I'd never actually have a conversation with him? Yup that's the one.
Yesterday we had our department holiday potluck. Which in and of itself would have made it one of my favorite days of the year. And it's always a popular event where there's never enough room in the lounge where we have it to seat everyone. So Orlando showed up late and they were pulling in more chairs trying to find extra space to put them. So from across the room, our administrator yells, "Lisa, is there some extra room next to you?" If not, I was about a fraction of a second away from offering up my lap. So Orlando sat throughout all of lunch and chatted with me and my other two co-workers. Did I mention smitten? If he looked good from far away, now after talking to him he looks even better. I had to blame my slightly trembling hands on the air conditioning. He's incredibly friendly and personable (but not in an ADD kind of way), and I swear that it was everything I could do to not lean over and run my fingers through his hair. It's the kind of curly that separates into thick locks. Yummy. We joked about middle names (me strategically withholding my nickname that combines my middle name with fruit), getting along with our co-workers, getting the mean cashier lady fired. We were one of the last few people to leave the lunch well after 1pm.
After recounting this story to my roommate last night, she freaked when she found out that he looks exactly like Orlando Bloom, due to some massive obsession with him. And equally with Lord of the Rings movies. So she told me that I had to hook her up with a brother or something. Which, considering that he has a twin brother, works out well. She freaked out even more when I told her that. But I swear I'm not over-imagining our comfortable, happy future together. It was just a damn fine way to spend a Thursday afternoon.
On that note, my roommate and I are hosting a Friday night dinner tonight in honor of Parini's return to MI. So I should probably get-a-cleanin'. Those dustbunnies under the table aren't going to hop their own little asses over to the garbage can. Have a lovely Friday night. XOXOXOXOXOXOX
8:34 AM
Wednesday, December 15, 2004 I'm so smart, too bad I can't get anything figured out....I spent an hour and a half this morning in the bathtub contemplating some of my immediate moves for the next couple months, (note: I've become obsessed with taking baths lately. It provides me with the feeling of "doing something," even something a little special for myself. Something different than not getting out of bed or not getting off the couch. Somehow, not getting out of the bathtub feels more productive. Especially if one is contemplating life or coming up with wonderful phrases that will eventually find their way into a story sooner or later. I would share these wonderful phrases with you, but I should probably copyright them first). And yes, I take baths in the middle of the day on a Wednesday. Which figured into part of my action plan. Because if I have enough time in the middle of the day to be lounging in freakishly hot water, then certainly I have time to be doing something else that doesn't have the illusion of being productive, but in fact actually is.
Immediate prospects: get another job. I'm considering leaving my job all together. You heard it here first. Not that I'm unhappy, but it's 100% (maybe 90%) for financial reasons. And I now know that I will not be able to function on my salary for the next year and a half (my yearly pay increases are about half that of inflation). It's a fact that I've been in denial about for the past year or so, but now that both of my credit cards are maxed out and my checking account has been overdrawn more in the last 2 months than I'd care to mention, it's drastic measures time. My stupid main reason for not leaving my job is the perk of having my tuition for school paid for. But there are a few alternatives to this:
1. Find a job that pays enough to cover those costs. And hopefully enough more to not put me into the exact situation I'm in now. 2. Find another job that still covers tuition but pays more.
The obvious problem with both of these, is that I don't have my degree yet to make me a more marketable candidate and push me into another salary bracket. Although if you knew how much I got paid, it seems impossible to go any lower, short of licking the floor clean at Church's chicken for pennies. So there's the next option:
1. Finding a part time job that doesn't involve folding shirts, smiling, trays, or anything nasty enough to require me to wear gloves while performing. Ideally flexible hours, and preferably related to my future degree.
So while soaking in Pear Glace scented bubbles, I had a brilliant idea. Since I was meeting with my professor to pick up my quiz, I could ask him if they were looking for any part time help. This satisfies all above said requirements. And the professor has always been very complimentary to my prowess, if it's possible to associate that word with math. Problem solved! I was mentally rearranging my current work schedule to facilitate my new job. I was thinking about being able to do statistics stuff all day long. I was decorating my new desk. So I sat there psyching myself out and plotting out exactly what I would say and how to best inflect my voice to make it sound casual and unrehearsed.
So what did I do when I went to go see him? Took my quiz, thanked him politely, and left. Maybe I was deterred by the fact that there was no extra chair in his office for me to sit down and have a chat. Maybe my brain was going wild with processing the leaning piles of crap that occupied every available space of shelf and floor. Maybe internally, there's something wrong with this brilliant plan. Maybe I'm still just a big fat friggin' wimp when it comes to job hunting and marketing myself in any way. Maybe there are still deep seeded traumatic issues that I've buried from my previous job-seekeing experience that perhaps still need to be dealt with. And here all along, I've been so sure I've matured into the best interview candidate ever! (I could make witty jokes! Be so well-spoken! Smile with the perfected look-and-nod of respectful understanding of my interviewer!).
But this isn't over yet. The situation is too dire for me to be a be overcome by intangible, inexplicable reasons. Maybe it's a cue to best articulate myself through everyone's favorite medium of email. In the meantime, it's time to start tweakin' up the resume kids, because Lisa's on the dismal hunt once again.
3:52 PM
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Update: I'm now in constant full body shivers. In spite of wearing everything wool that I own, gloves, scarf wrapped around my head, and a pot of hot coffee consumed (I assure you the full body shivers are not related to the influx of caffeine), which looked like I was drinking cups of fire because of the temperature differential between the air and my beverage. Plus, I was supposed to be at work 20 minutes ago, but I'm chillin' (no pun intended) with the furnace repair guy who has been working for close to an hour with no change in furnace status. When I called my co-worker to give her the update, I actually used the phrase, "I'm so fucking cold," and I do not ever swear around my co-workers, but I'll just have to blame it on the shivers. Have I ever actually desperately wanted to be at work for the simple fact of blissful, warm heat? Maybe if I just lean over my computer, I can absorb some of the little waves coming out of the back. Or rest my hands on the underside to absorb waaarrrmmmth.
1:18 PM
I'm so chill, no wonder it's freezing....Well, it wouldn't be a frigid winter if the heat in our apartment actually worked. I wouldn't appreciate the modern marvels of heating and cooling technology until all I hear is the useless whirring of a furnace that just can't kick itself on. And I made the mistake of being out from underneath the covers in my bed long enough for any heat that I had been squandering and carefully saving overnight to flee and rejoin the rest of the frosty air. I think an invention I'm going to start working on patenting is a nose warmer. The intuition of gloves. The brilliance of earmuffs. So why is it that my nose is not given the same kind of loving, I-want-to-keep-you-warm attention? Because that's really the only part of me that's significantly cold right now. I'm weighing the option of wrapping a scarf around my head, but I haven't figured out the whole breathing thing yet. An obstacle that the nose warmer would surely address. Note: current apartment thermostat reading: 51 degrees. Insert expletive here!
Tuesday weekend recap: word of the weekend? Low key. Or lowkey. There. Lots of pretending to study for exams that are this evening. Lots of getting sucked into America's Next Top Model marathons. Babysitting nieces and nephews. Attending a get together with a friend to watch the Lions lose in classic last-half-of-the-4th-quarter style. Other than that, it was actually really nice to sleep and be very relaxed.
Well, back to that studying for exams thing. I don't know if I've ever been more sick of being in school than I am lately. It will probably be compounding itself with each passing semester. Ugh. Alright. Have a warm and toasty day!
9:01 AM
Saturday, December 11, 2004 Do you dream about music or mathematics or planets too far for the eye....Now I know that work dreams suck because they remind you that you spend too much time executing tasks that you don't particularly enjoy. And by manifesting themselves in your subconcious and reappearing when you're supposed to be dreaming about sexual fantasies or flying over beaches while eating ice cream sundaes with warm carmel sauce on top, you can realize that there are too many little neurons being occupied by what you do at your job. But what do you suppose dreaming about writing your blog means? I'd be willing to bet that in those "what does it all mean?" dream dictionaries, that there wouldn't be any entry for "writing blog" that would indicate what the innards of my mind were really trying to tell me. I'm open for suggestions.
I even remember what I was trying to write in my blog, and it's this: Ladies and gentlemen. After much prodding. Bothering. Hassling. Pestering. Harassing. Threatening to withhold compliments about hot bods. Chris has finally succumbed to the allure of the blog and started his own!! Finally, after all these years (years I've been doing this? geesh), someone I know has actually decided to start writing about themselves and allowing me to manically check in on each and every detail of their own lives. Bitchin'. You'll soon see Chris, how censoring yourself will come into play. Unless you have bigger balls than I do....oh wait. In the meantime, Chris's blog will be added to the "Worthwhile Reading" section, and because apparently this was important enough for me to dream about it, I'll even put him at the top.
Thursday, December 09, 2004 Don't feel sorry for me....Much to my surprise on the MSN homepage today was an article staring me straight in the face that may as well have been written directly to me, as it has been an issue PLAUGING my mind for the last week. Young Americans are drowning in debt. Not that I'm losing sleep over the financial well-being of the 20-somethings of America, but because I'm so staunchly in that category, I would be tempted to hyphenate my name with it. It's easy to sometimes think that I'm the only person in the world with problems and sometimes I can allay my mental freak-out status with the argument that "it could be worse." But today was the day that I responded to my own bolstering with a, "not by much."
It's sad that so many people I know that graduated around the same time I did have the same financial woes. That in the interims between graduation and jobs or even in college we'll resort to the dreaded credit card. Not to be spend-happy, but for stuff like, oh, gas, groceries (they've coined a phrase for that now, it's called survival debt). And it always comes down to "what other choice do I have?" Which is another question that has been pestering me lately. What else could I help but do? I've worked my entire life since I was legally able to do so. I have never once asked my parents for money. I have an excellent edjamacation. I am gainfully employed, thankfully. I lived at home for 2 years. I share a moderately priced apartment with a friend. But even then it's all not enough. Even just for basics (although the cable and internet are going to be the next to go). Eternally frustrating.
And I know that it's all just temporary, but it sucks when you know that you're doing such damage that will take years to repair. And it's come to the point once again where I'm weighing the decision of taking the dreaded second job. Which, with my hours boils down to two painfully, a-little-vomit-in-mouth-thinking-about-them options: retail or waitressing. And somehow, there's always a little bit of stubborn pride that makes me put off doing either. But there's that damn question again, what other choice do I have?
And just to let you know that I've written this twice and deleted it twice, mainly because I don't like talking about this stuff. I hate discussing financial anythingness. And I also hate feeling-sorry-for-Lisaness too. So don't do it, or you'll probably just incur my wrath. I am stubborn to the core, and a pity party on my account will make me blush with angered shame which will cause me to not speak to you, screen your phonecalls, and grind my teeth with memories of embarassing abashment whenever I hear your name spoken in casual conversation. Got it? Sometimes a girl just needs to vent, and that's what this is for in the first place right?
Well, time to get back to work and eating my oatmeal. Have a pleasant evening.
7:38 PM
Wednesday, December 08, 2004 Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna give it back to you....My happy highlights from the Grammy noms:
~ Did I not tell you that Ryan Adams's version of Wonderwall was so incredibly beautiful? Well, I'm glad that the voters agreed enough to nominate it for Best Solo Rock Vocal Performance.
~ Kudos to Franz Ferdinand too. It's never the big categories that I'm interested in but always the random rock ones.
~ A big round for David Sedaris and the noms for spoken word album and comedy album.
~ Kudos also to the recognition of The Killers. I knew they were on the radar, but I didn't realize that people would like them so much.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004 The disappointment of success hangs from your shoulders like a handed-down dress....And so tack another semester on to my estimated date of graduation. I just got the big nix from my advisor about doing my thesis project next semester, citing that there are still too many classes that I need to take (5). So it will have to be done at the end. Although I'm kind of disgruntled about it (mostly about having to stay at my job for an additional 3-4 months), there are certain options that I now have for this winter.
1. I have the option of taking a random elective next semester. I don't need anymore for my degree program, but free tuition is part of my benefits package, so why not? Although I have a suspicion that it will somehow have to be related to my job in a vague, approved-by-a-higher-up kind of way. So even though it's tempting to peruse classes like Polish, Chicano-Boricua studies, Forensic Toxicology, or Opera Workshop, I would probably end up being limited to classes with alluring titles like, "Health Promotion," or "Health Care Finance." I know my eyes are all agog with excitement...
2. There is the overwhelming urge to take a class in the Business or Law programs for the higher probability for eye candy. But in the end, I am going to have to do work right?
3. And then the best option. Maybe this semester is a gift. Perhaps I should be taking this semester of a lesser workload to focus on other things. Like things I keep saying I'm going to do but don't because of my hectic schedule. Namely, actually finish things that I start writing (currently have multiple different things in varying stages of completion). Maybe if I approach it like an actual class and find some discipline for myself, I could get something done. And you could be my teacher! You could hold me responsible for finishing. You could be my reviewer. My editor if you will. You could set deadlines and submission dates for me. You could give me topics to write about. OOoo!! This does actually sound like fun!
10:17 AM
Monday, December 06, 2004 All I know, is everything is not as it seems....A traumatic way to wake up on a Monday morning: 10 minutes before your scheduled Monday morning meeting at 8am.
It only took 20 seconds to say the word "fuck" well into the double digits.It took another 5 to start rotating "fuck" with "Goddammit."
Fortunately though, it only took approximately 7.5 minutes for me to recover my head that I seemed to have been running around without.
It took roughly 50 seconds and one trip past the mirror to realize that it would be a helpless day of looking like ass.
It took 9 minutes to realize that the extra 4 minutes for coffee would be totally worth it.
It took 5 minutes into my drive to realize that my happy lunch was still neatly wrapped and waiting for me in the refrigerator at home.
It took 6 minutes into my drive to realize that I have some serious skills at curling eyelashes and steering with my knees. While not spilling my coffee.
It took about 2 full hours to get my head out of my ass and figure out what the hell I was supposed to actually be doing on Monday morning. Other than complaining about being late.
10:39 PM
Sunday, December 05, 2004 We'll both forget the breeze, most of the time....The best drive home from Rochester ever? The cutie in the Jetta next to me with a giant reindeer suit head on his passenger seat? The white fluffy snow on the tractor trailer in front of me flying all over Rochester Road? The hay from the manger float in front of him littering the side of the street? How can you not at least chuckle at that?
If you didn't guess, they had the Christmas parade in downtown Rochester today, and today I learned that the temperature can drop 20 degrees just by the sun disappearing behind the clouds. At the beginning, I was rethinking my choice of gloves, scarf, and double-layered clothes, considering that I was actually too toasty to wear it all. By the end, I was rethinking my choice of gloves, scarf, and double-layered clothes, thinking that I should have opted for wool socks, the poofy down jacket, and any other amount of clothing that would have stopped the convulsive shivers that were racking my body. My nephew was on a float for his cub scout pack, (of course he was one of the very last of the over two hour long parade), and he was so damn cute, I would have stood out in the cold for two hours longer to see him smile and wave as damn cute as he did.
Yesterday kicked off the winter to do list with my sisters. The four of us spent the afternoon together having lunch and then partaking in arts and crafts time. You can stop laughing now because, yes, it was on our to do list. Amy and I diligently worked on our scrapbooks (which is coming along delightfully I must say), and Suzy and Laura impressively continued with the future conquoring of the stained glass art circuit. Some seriously impressive stuff. The afternoon was made complete by the warm fuzzies of blue hot chocolate, and the soft hum of Christmas songs in the background. Which was usually drowned out by us making our own creative alterations to the songs or laughing at ourselves for our creative alterations to the songs. A perfect afternoon, I must say.
Last night I was reminded that in spite of missing friends that have been there for me in the past, I've been very fortunate to have come across some great girls that cheer me up on a regular basis. I like seeing people wipe away tears because they're laughing so hard. Kelly, Shelly and I had a girl's night (sans naked pillowfight. Sorry to disappoint) where, even though we had When Harry Met Sally on, we didn't make it through half, because we kept stopping to look at pictures, refill drinks, make fun of Britney's skanky ass in People, and talk. I had a great great time ladies, and thanks again Kel. You are the best reassurance a girl could ask for.
Friday night was my swanky work holiday party at The Rattlesnake Club. And I have to say that it was certainly a test of confidence and self-assurance. Because I was flying solo and the three people that I know very well were the very last three people in the door (all over an hour late), I had to sit at the table by myself with four other people I didn't know and think, "I'm ok with this. I can sit here and be perfectly comfortable and content with my own company." Once they were there and the drinks started flowing, our table was definitely the most fun. It may have had something to do with the fact that 3 of the women at my table were drinking mulitple Hypnotic and Henneseys on the rocks. No, I was not one of these women, thank you. I stuck to my red wine. I had a really good time, in a formal, square, swanky-pants, hangin-with-people-I-don't-know kinda way.
Well, if this weekend was any indication of the rest of my December, then I'm going to be moving at breakneck speed for 101 different activities and get-togethers. I'll do be best to keep up and not end up a piece of discarded float, snow-fluff on the side of the road.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004 So take your troublesome baggage, and put it on the last train home, cos you can guess somewhere else in the world right now, someone else feels just as alone....Three whole posts in one day? Does this mean I get the rest of the week off? This one will be depressing enough to offset any chuckle you got (or I got while writing) from the other two.
I have let two very important friendships to me slide away by the wayside. Actually I've let 12 fall away lately (ya think I'm kiddin'? Just ask me for a list), but two of them in particular, I find myself near tears with missing right now. Maybe it's because I was re-reading old blogs and remembering how much I love these girls. But mostly it was because I was remembering one of the things that I treasured the absolute most in them. They never ever ever would judge me for things that I told them.
To me, this is probably the most important thing that I value in my friendships. Because if I every get the vibe that people judge me for things that I tell them, then you'll pretty much be cut off from me telling you heart-wrenching things that cloud up my mind. It fucking freaks me out to share serious stuff with people, and part of the reason I don't is fear of being judged. Just terrifies me. Of course that's why I'm so censored here, and sadly, I'm just as censored with myself on a regular basis with pretty much everyone.
But I never was with these two girls. There was absolutely nothing that they didn't know about me. Which is pretty huge considering that I have a couple monster secrets that only countable numbers of people know. But I was never ever afraid to tell them anything, because I knew in my heart of hearts that all that I would ever receive from them was complete unconditional support and the best advice a girl could ask for. And good Lord did they help me out in the past.
And maybe I'm realizing how much I miss them now because I've spent too long internalizing things. Maybe I just miss not having that ebbing fear in my periphery that judgements are being made against me whenever I open my big fat mouth. Maybe I just wish I was a little less guarded sometimes. But I think I just miss them altogether.
9:17 PM
She works hard for the money....At work, we advertise for volunteer research subjects in a variety of different newspapers. And there are also online websites that you can pay for to get a whole list of research studies you can participate in for money. We never actually solicited to these websites, but they likely saw one of our ads and added us to their database. We usually ask people how they found out about us when they call. So one of the new websites we're being featured on? "safe sex for money.com" Sweet. So what exactly does that make my job title? Can I officially add "mistress" to my name? And what was this guy really looking for when he ended up calling us??
And finally a service for my cell phone that I'll actually use. Finally I can no longer be responsible for errors I make while drinking! Technology will do it for me! Now if only my cell phone will ensure that I don't drink half the bar in one night, then I'll be allllll set.
Mistress L.A., signing off.
3:25 PM
And she's sweet, so discreet, she's exactly what I need, not even make-believe, she's not so usual....So you know in the beginning of Amelie where they're describing Amelie, her parents, and her friends based on their likes and dislikes (skipping stones, cracking creme brulee, clinging swim trunks, etc.)? Well, I think that something I would have to include as my likes are new bottles of honey, ("Lisa aime les boteilles nouveaux du miel"). Before the lid gets all crusty and you can't open the cap and it all crystalizes at the bottom so that you have to bang it on the counter to get out a little dribble. The next time you go on a tea binge, I highly recommend splurging for the new bottle of honey.
Why Julia Roberts may eventually regret the name Phinneaus for her son:
Every person who takes any number of psychology classes, particularly biopsych, will have a certain number of hallmark scientific studies drilled into their brain (no pun intended). Like the ones where they severed people's corpus callosum and the two sides of their brain started working seperately? Or infamous H.M., the best documented study of anterograde amnesia? And then there was good old Phineas Gage. The railroad worker in the mid-1800's, who in a freak explosion, had a railroad spike go in under his chin, through his skull and brain and landing some 25-30 yards behind him. He recovered and ended up living for many years afterwards, except he became incredibly anti-social and violent. Leading researchers to believe that your frontal lobe contains the areas of your brain responsible for personality and rational thought, (which turns out to be pretty true). (Note: they actually have the iron stake and his skull in a museum at Harvard. Dorks). So if my son was named Phinneaus, I would probably try to steer him away from a career in ironworking and probably start lifting my feet everytime I went over railroad tracks.
Monday, November 29, 2004 Breathe in for luck breathe in so deep, this air is blessed, you share with me....I just started participating in this research study a couple weeks ago comparing which flu vaccine works better -- the shot or the nasal spray. So I was randomized to one or the other or either placebo. So I don't know for sure if I actually received the vaccine or not. Part of the deal of the study is, when I get sick, I need to notify them immediately so that they can record my symptoms, severeity, duration, and if I can, come in so they can do a throat culture. If I didn't get paid extra for the throat swab, I sure as shit wouldn't do it again, because unlike the gentle, tender touch of my pediatrician and even my doctor now, this woman went to work with her cotton swab on my epiglottis. I think my throat hurts more now than when I got there. What I had forgotten about though was that just for coming in, they give you a $10 gift card to go spend on remedies. Mine was thoughtfully spent on 7Up, chicken soup, Tylenol, honey, and a thermometer.
Did you know when you sleep for 4 hours in the middle of the day when you're sick you can have dreams of walking around downtown Detroit carrying your tennis shoes (I don't really know why they wouldn't be on my feet), and running into so many random random people that you knew in high school riding around on their bikes trying to get home before the sun set, but not wanting to fight traffic on the highway? Did you also know that if you have enough berry zinger tea, your teeth will feel like they're going to rot out of your head?
Back to my archnemesis: oh the dreaded research paper. Do you think this should serve as a warning flag that perhaps I shouldn't be in research if every moment spent working on my research paper makes me want to have a bonafide temper tantrum?
Pleasant question to leave you with:
Would you rather.... have your romantic moments scored by an Air Supply soundtrack
or
make the sounds of a pinball machine during intercourse?
My answer? "You're every woman in the world to me...."
7:17 PM
Sunday, November 28, 2004 I want you to know what's going on in my mind, I thought I was immortal a little while ago, I thought I was right but now I know, I'm wrong about everything....
Preface to today's post: As my ass will be planted in the same chair for the next obnoxious number of hours writing and/or starting my paper that I've been pissing and moaning about for the last couple weeks or so, in order to maintain some kind of sanity, I will be taking frequent breaks to write parts of this post. Because if I were to sit down and write it all at once right now, I would 1) forget things and 2) not want to actually write my paper after writing the blog (the order of which was debated at breakfast this morning). So you should probably start at the bottom and read upwards. Or stand on your head and read rightways-up. Enjoy.
11:59 PM
Thank you to everyone who I've spent time with in the last couple days. Everyone has been insanely overwhelmingly wonderfully nice. Thank you to everyone who bought me a drink, made me laugh, laughed at me. I've always said that I'm the kind of person who takes a nice compliment, an innocent gesture, a good moment, and locks it away in my crazy little head only for my own enjoyment. To me, somehow by sharing those good moments kind of takes something away from it. Makes it more common and less special. So I've had so many quality moments of spending time with you all over the last couple days, that I'll have tons of little moments to make me smile for weeks to come. I have a card on bulletin board that says, "We do not remember days, we remember moments." Amen sista.
And because Rochester shrinks everytime I go out there, last night, I ran into Jonas, Kurt, and Chris at the brewery. My good fortune, certainly. I was happy and warm fuzzy to see them (I swear there was no relation to any of the martinis in my veins), and they were kind enough to drive me back to Suzy's, in a ride where no sapling was safe. It was good to see them, but GODDAMMIT CHRIS! START WRITING YOUR OWN BLOG!! Because until then, I will not include any flattery here about your hot bod.
9:26 PM
Last night, in celebration of Suzy's 6th 29th birthday, we had a great group of people to come out for dinner -- Janet, Steve, Sabrina, Tom, Laura, Kevin, the birthday girl, and myself. And I think we can all safely say that no one will ever look at a loaf of bread in a bag the same ever again. Nor will anyone ever eat an ice cream sundae without at least considering hanging onto that spoon with two hands. And if you'd like me to let you in on the joke, just think about how you would brush your teeth with two hands, and you'll probably figure out the basis of all these jokes. But it's a safe bet that it's probably a dirty one.
Everything about last night was pretty great. Especially that the birthday girl had a great night and a great day all around. See, sometimes having the waitstaff sing to you isn't so bad a couple glasses of wine into the night.
9:23 PM
Do you ever watch Inside the Actor’s Studio where, at the end, they ask people “Which profession other than your own would you not like to attempt?” Well, I can say with certainty that I woud not want to attempt being a chauffeur. Although if it's good company, I can't really complain. A job that would be interesting though would be a cab driver. Especially if you're driving two hungover, slightly slaphappy, and extremely thirsty individuals to a non-existant 7-11. Especially if you have a good enough sense of humor to ask if the "Hard Salami Cafe" is a gay restaurant.
By the way, I swear that I don't know anyone who gets a little teary-eyed when watching Bridget Jones. I also don't know anyone who rewinds parts of Bridget Jones when missing crucial dialogue.
8:05 PM
Update:
~ Blogger web site is being a finicky bitch.
~ Progression of paper: not very good at all. Tomorrow is going to be a miserable night.
~ Progression of sore throat since last post: about 10 million times worse.
~ Probability of my having a fever: I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing .
~ Probability of developing a fever if you spent any time with me this weekend: I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing.
~ Probability of me getting my ass kicked for calling in sick the Monday after Thanksgiving two years in a row (legitimately!!): I’d say it’s a pretty sure thing.
Things I would recommend doing at the bar: coming up with survey questions. Facilitating interesting, slightly non-conventional conversation. You may come across people who think you’re off your rocker, but then maybe I don’t want to hear your answer anyway. So we got some good responses to the question “What’s your guilty pleasure?” But the shot for the birthday girl at midnight may have eliminated my ability to remember what the answers actual were. (note: mine is Clay Aiken, Tom’s is “Open Arms” by Journey, and Suzy’s was Barry Manilow). Sabrina wasn’t feeling well, so Suzy offered to drive her back to her car in Royal Oak. The tricky part is that it was Tom’s car, and once they left, Tom and I were stranded in Grosse Pointe. Well, technically, we weren’t stranded until we were dropped off at his sister’s house. Before that though, I lost my phone in the easiest place to lose a phone – my pocket, Tom was wandering the neighborhood trying his sister’s key in random houses, and I had a very extensive conversation with someone who I apparently deemed worthy to give my phone number, but whose name still eludes me. Going to sleep around the time the sun comes up spells for a very very long Saturday.
6:32 PM
The four of us started off with dinner in Greektown and then off to the casino. I'm not a gambling person by nature, or at least not where moola is concerned. Plus we've discussed gambling at length in my stats classes, so just watching the games makes my head whirl with numbers and probabilities. One thing that we established though was that Suzy is a cooler. Tom had to wait until the ladies were safely camped out at the bar before "going to the bathroom" with a slight detour back to the blackjack table to make up his losses while Suzy was watching. And I guess breaking even makes one want to wear his friend's scarf on his head, a look popular with little old ladies the world over. The woman working the ticket booth didn't think it was all that funny though.
The next stop was Old Shillelagh, an Irish bar where the musicians drink more than any other musicians (and more than most people) I've ever seen before. But they do sing along songs right, and swaying back and forth to the songs becomes reflexive. The pitchers emptied and refilled themselves as though by magic! And so then it was on to Grosse Pointe.
All day on Friday, I kept repeating over to myself, "I'm not going out tonight. I do not want a crazy night out and an all day hangover on Saturday." So as soon as Suzy called to ask if I was still interested, I had to answer, "Sure!" No hesitation, no second-guessing, no need-for-convincing. I think I have a spine around here somewhere, but I'm not sure.
So instead, the night started with a round of drinks at Woodruff's with Sabrina, Tom, and Suzy, and finished the following day at about noon with a cab ride home from Grosse Pointe. Would you like to hear the rest? Well stay tuned, because I need to grab something that's going to soothe my worsening sore throat. WTF is up with me being sick again??
3:57 PM
On Launch at Yahoo where you make your own radio station, for some artists, even if you rate them, they don't get played. Something to do with copyrights or record company royalties or something, but it is noted that some artists were pending and they were just trying to work it out with the record companies. And apparently something got worked out, because about half the people I've rated are suddenly getting played, and I'm in HEAVEN. Diana Krall? Counting Crows? Ryan Adams? Finally being added to my playlists? HEAVEN.
1:41 PM
First things first. When we did the 3-Day Walk, we had the Book of Questions, which consisted of thoughtful interesting questions. But they weren't "strange" per se, but mostly pretty standard. But I did have another book that didn't get much play called, "Would you rather?" courtesey of Amy. And it is now clear that the true destiny of this book was not for me to use during the walk, but to post the questions here. I was trying to explain to Suzy and Tom last night that the questions were just bizarre as hell, but not having any examples lingering on the tip of my tongue, I couldn't quite explain why. But now that I have to book in hand, I think you'll understand what I mean. There are mulitple different sections of the book, but for now I'll bypass the ones on curses, deaths, and tortures and focus on the questions about sex because, well, what would you expect from me?
Would you rather.... experience orgasm upon hearing the word "pancake"
or
reflexively belt out the chorus of "Come On, Eileen" upon reaching climax?
Things to consider: family brunches, breakfast at IHOP
My answer? FLAPJACKS! FLAPJACKS! OH YES! FLAPJACKS!
Friday, November 26, 2004 And so it is, just like you said it would be, life goes easy on me....Slightly belated Happy Thanksgiving! Just like me to be just a day or two behind on everything.
Back during Thanksgiving in 1984 (it may have been 1985), our dad had acquired a video camera. I don't remember if he had rented it or bought one (the one he ended up purchasing makes the cameras currently used by news reporters look like a handheld, this thing was such a beast). So we have this videotape that has become a bit of a legend in our family. Because it was all of my brothers and sisters, minus 20 years, all not quite knowing what to do with this new medium of VIDEO RECORDING. So we all went on to be incredibly goofy -- me chomping on my Cap'n Crunch, Brian holding a pencil between his upper lip and his nose, Suzy doing split leaps in the doorway down the hall. I used to hate watching this video, because I was probably the biggest goof out of all of us, and I always just kind of felt like it ended up being an opportunity for us to all pick on me. But now, I kind of wish I knew who has the video. I'm not sure if the 'rentals took it with them to FLA or if they handed it off to one of the kids to pull out and watch on holidays.
So in absence of the videotape to watch yesterday, we sat around and told stories about each other instead. I must admit that one of the greatest things about a hot tub, is that when in it, you're forced to spend quality time together talking. I can't tell you how many great times and conversations we've had since Laura and Kevin invested in the hot tub (best buy ever!). My niece and nephews were loving hearing the stories about their mom and dad and aunties and uncles. From me knocking down the hutch/shelf in our bedroom while Laura was babysitting, to forgetting Brian at KMart, to tricking Kevin with the "My ice cream smells strange," line, to Kevin breaking one of the chairs at our grandparent's place in Port Austin, to Suzy doing lemondrops on the monkey bars and splitting her lip open. If I could have imagined one perfect thing that I would have wanted to be doing yesterday, I don't think I could have come up with anything better. Except for the indulging in gluttonous amounts of food part, but that was effectively taken care of as well. I don't know how anyone could be more thankful for what they have than I was yesterday.
The one similarity between the old videotape and yesterday too was that during the Thanksgiving back in the day, there was a significant coating of snow on the ground. Which was right on par yesterday. I can't remember the last time we've had a white Thanksgiving. But it made things kind of pretty to look at from the windows. And it made things even more obnoxious when covered in ice. Especially if it happens to be your sister's porch step that you fall off of while carrying a heaping laundry basket in styletto boots. But upon rereading that sentence, I was kind of askin' for it huh?
Well, I have a date at the gym to work off a couple forkfulls of what I ingested yesterday. At least this way I can pretend I'm doing something useful right? I hope you had a lovely day yesterday! Unless you're one of the crazies that went shopping at 5am. Then I retract my kind comments, YOU CRAZY PERSON! Kisses.
10:05 AM
Tuesday, November 23, 2004 I just want to sing a song with you....Let's hear it for the 2 day work week! Except that today will end up being a back to back stretch of roughly 16 hours. But that's ok! Did I mention 5 day weekend?! Days? 5? Vacation? Holiday? Fun? Yay?
Today is going to be random spout off day.
Once again, yesterday at the gym, I was unarmed, having showed up without my "Supersonic" lyrics. Curses!
I still haven't started my 15 page paper. Perhaps something I can do at work tonight. Maybe I'll start with the references first to actually have a few of the pages filled with something.
Lisa's library recently received her Jem CD back from the lendee, and I've been listening to it non-stop since Saturday. Only to be reminded a day late, that she was in fact in concert on Sunday. Curses! (note: if you think that you don't know who Jem is, you'd be mistaken. Her songs have been cropping up everywhere, most notably the Desperate Housewives promos, promos for some show on TNT, and most recently for the new flick Closer, although Damien Rice is also used for those too. Shit, I'd go see the movie for those two songs alone).
Two quick things I have to say about the Pistons/Pacers brawl (I don't want to belabour this considering that five zillion articles have been written about it): 1) It could and probably would have happened anywhere, but it's unfortunate that we Detroiters have shown ourselves as the short-fused heathens that we are. 2) I think they should punish every person who threw and/or spilled their beer. Have you been to The Palace lately? Those damn things are like $8 a pop. They should be punished for not taking a little more pride in their alcoholic beverages.
My coffee pot is making some crazy noises. It's imperative that I ensure its complete functionality. Kisses.
10:18 AM
Sunday, November 21, 2004 Lift my days, light up my nights....You know what's fun? Having a crush. Because crushes are so innocent and chock full of unbridled hope. And having the image of someone in your imagination as completely perfect is the best way to go. At this stage, he has a charming but sweet demeanor. He has perfect hands, noticeably wedding band absent, and hair to die for. He doesn't forget to call me when he says he's going to. He doesn't tighten jars and lids too tightly so I can't get them off. He doesn't snore. He hasn't let down any of my expectations at all. And sure, maybe I haven't actually had a conversation with him yet, but he is a reason that I get out of bed to go to work with a slightly more noticeable spring in my step. And inevitably I'll either 1)never speak to him directly or 2)make such glamorous expectations for him, he'll of course fail to live up to them. But until then, there's that feeling akin to being in 9th grade. Where I would look forward to English class 3rd hour so that I could sneak glances across the room at my soul-devouring crush. Where I would plan my routes in the halls to pass him by. (note: said crush did eventually fall into category #2). Where did these post-worthy thoughts about my crush come from, you ask? Well, he decided to make a cameo in my dreams last night as one of Stephanie and my new roommates (he was incredibly polite as I cleared out a shelf for him in the bathroom closet). And as always, dreams have that intense emotional aspect to them, so much so that I wake up convinced that I'm in love.
In other news, I think my liver is going on strike. If it had the option of walking off the job, I'm sure that it would. You'd think that the horrid, wretched feeling of being hungover from too many white cosmos and glasses/bottle of red wine would stamp a permanent reminder on your memory to NOT DO IT AGAIN. But just a few short hours, a nap, and a couple of bottles of water later, you can be ready for another round. Although much more tame the second time around (I'm honestly still shocked that I could bring any glass containing alcohol to my lips without yarfing). At least something got through that thick head of mine. Friday night was an absolutely amazingly delicious dinner courtesy of Kelly and her brother Brian in honor of Suzy's birthday. We're talking sun-dried tomato dip, spinach salad, orange roughy in a lemon and white wine sauce with parmesean cous cous and julienned mixed veggies. So damn good. And even though I passed out before 11pm, I still had a good time. Last night was the 2nd annual progressive dinner party with Suzy and her neighbors. Fabulous on all courses! I even had the pleasure (mmm...sort of) of helping with the hand-made pasta noodles. Which is a task that I've always sworn was way way too much work for the goodness of the product. But I may retract my statement considering that dinner was amazing. And it's probably a good thing that I was pretty full by dessert, or else my ever-expanding ass would be going on strike along with my liver.
And like any good Sunday, it's time to get some homework done. There's a 15-page paper looming over my head that is just begging for me to actually start it. Sure. Maybe just after watching a little football though...and don't get me started on football with those damn Buckeyes....I'm still recovering from that. K. Have a happy Sunday.
11:43 AM
Friday, November 19, 2004 The 'S' is for super and the 'U' is for unique, the 'P' is for perfection and you know that we are freaks....There is a faction of women that go to my gym, that I swear, have met by destiny. That some serendipitous force has brought them all together. Because they are all essentially clones of each other. They generally only work out during the day (they all attend the same aerobics class on Fridays), so when I'm periodically on the nocturnal schedule, I'll get to enjoy (debatable) their antics.
And how to describe these women? Unabashed? Brazen? I prefer (and I think they would approve), ballsy. They're the kind of women who, even though you're doing your best to avoid overhearing their conversation, their voices are just loud and brassy enough that there's no avoiding it. That from across the gym you'll hear, "I spend all day picking my underwear out of my ass as it is, why would I intentionally shove a piece of floss up there in the first place?" Or, my favorite, "A bottle of wine isn't going to give me the worst case of gas like that dish my cousin always brings over for Thanksgiving." These are the kind of women you would imagine getting drunk at their husbands' holiday party for the stamping plant and get up and sing a karaoke rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama" like the whole of the Confederacy depended on it.
And maybe I wouldn't be intrigued enough to devote an entire post to them, but I think it's because there are about 7 or 8 of them that I'm mystified that they've all managed to convene together and share their soul-mateness. Shit, I'm so happy when I find people that recognize my lapse into Friends quotes, I couldn't imagine the bliss of having that many people that are exactly like you. Maybe I'm jealous. Maybe I wish that I could explain to them what "indoor" voices are. Maybe I wish I could still wear red socks with the heart lace ruffles that you fold over after tucking your stirrups in to them without looking ridiculous. Maybe I just need to try going to the gym in the evening instead.
You know what I do honestly wish though. There's one CD that they play periodically that is actually one of the aerobics instructor's tapes. And whenever it rolls around to "Supersonic," the old school jam by JJ Fad, I sooooo wish I could bust out the lyrics. Because half the women in my gym will go to town on this song. And sometimes a white girl just wants to show what she's made of. Next time I should make sure that I come armed with my lyric sheet. Because that wouldn't make me look cool or anything.....
Alright. Grocery store bound. Before signing off though, I'd like to take a moment to thank my good friends at Comcast. Because of their failure to show up to fix our cable between the quoted hours of 8-10am, I managed to accomplish every single non-techno related task to do around the house (it's really quite shocking how much of your life can be sucked away by television and the Internet). Now I have a clean closet, rearragned drawers, clean room, repaired bracelet, hemmed jacket, ironed shirts, and a categorized grocery list. Time to get to that. Kisses.
2:50 PM
Thursday, November 18, 2004 And whoever said there's nothing new under the sun, never thought much about me....Here's me happy that the Detroit City Police Department have other things on their plate to worry about than drivers ever-so-slightly speeding on Woodward. Or girls with their heads up their asses rocking out in their car. Yesterday when I was driving to work, I was blissfully excited that it was almost 10am, and not between 4-5am, like every other day that I had to be at work this week. So I was taking the opportunity to sing some Refreshments at the top of my lungs. So when I heard the siren whoop, I was manically looking around in my rearview and off to the drivers side, when I spotted a car pulled over on the opposite side of the road. So I figured that's what I heard. When the siren came again, I freakishly looked in my rearview trying to figure out why it sounded so damn loud, but there was no police car behind me. Probably because she was DRIVING RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I don't look at people in cars around me usually when I'm driving (unless I'm in traffic), and I honestly thought the car was a cab, not a cop car. So all she did was mouth the words "slow down" to me before speeding off, cutting off another driver and making an illegal left turn. And for the record, I was not going more than 5mph over thank you very much. I have many other thoughts to share on the drving habits of individuals on Woodward, but this is a long enough paragraph already.
And so the best time of the year begins. Yes, holidays. And I'm not saying this for the obvious reasons like spending time with friends and family, or for celebrating...ohhh....I don't know, the birth of Jesus maybe? But really, it's all about the free eats. We have this giant white board at work where we put up calendars for two months (this month and next) where we track our scheduled studies. But as soon as November rolls around, we erase October, and fire up December (complete with red and green dry-erase markers and an appropriate, although slightly mis-shapen drawing of something holiday-esque. This task usually falls on my shoulders, and my freakish turkey has no beak, but does have a giant tooty grin). But really the intention for this month, is not so much to track our experiments and scheduling of the bedrooms (that statement making my place of employment sound distinctly like a whorehouse), but to reflect daily on when and where we will be acquiring free eats.
First, the constructing of the December calendar starts with crossing off all days from the 24th to the 31st. With giant bold green letters saying LAB CLOSED! It makes me happy. And then, as the invites trickle in, we write in where exactly all of the parties are at. The benefit of being a part of like 5 different departments is that there are 5 different parties to attend. And they're usually not a big deal, but this year, our pulmonary party (doesn't that sound like a bunch of people listening to their lungs with stethescopes while actually blowing on party horns?), is at the Rattlesnake Club in Detroit. I don't know who made the call for the fancy pants get together this year, but I'd like to shake his/her hand. Plus there's our research potluck which is one of my highlights of the year. Ahh yes, so much goodness and fuzzy feelings to look forward to next month! And this is the point that I express my unhappiness of the results when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning. I'm back into the going-to-the-gym groove, as I pretty much constantly have a bag of workout clothes in my car. I'm shooting for breaking even.
Well, time to get back to hiding my envy of staring at someone while they're sleeping. Laters.
6:19 AM
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Note: I acknowledge that my photo links haven't been working, so in order for you to see what I look like a South Park character, I'll have to do some tinkering. Hold tight and hopefully I'll eventually have things fixed.
1:33 PM
And there's too much going on, but it's calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion....One goal I think I need to set for myself is to try to write a little bit more of this damn thing during the weekend, so that when I get around to it, there aren't three full days to try to explain in one shot. Because that seems to be where the bulleted lists come from. And where full days get reduced to "Yesterday (Thursday, Saturday, etc) was so much fun/a great day,". Much like the rest of my life, I can accomplish things much better and far more efficiently when they're broken up into single tasks (picked up from What About Bob? perhaps?). And when I let time go by, writing it up becomes one beastly task that I don't feel like doing. And then I end up skipping over tons of amusing details simply out of sheer laziness.
So now that I've spent a full paragraph complaining about having too much to write, you're still going to get a bulleted weekend recap. Even though I have scores of randomness that I've been mentally saving up, we'll see how much I feel like writing that once this is done. Before I start into this, I'll give an preface, saying that my voice has, for the most part, been shoddy at best. I still sound like the octogenarian chain smoker, but by the end of the day (read: end of the night at the bar after shouting over a general din) it's pretty reduced. So when reading this stories, you can imagine me honking like a gander during most conversations.
~ Always the easy convince, Suzy called on Thursday night to see if I was interested in meeting her friends Chris and Mike (we were also accompanied by Kelly, Todd, and Charles) at a jazz club in "Ferndale". Which actually means Detroit, in a pretty shady area. But the club, Baker's, is apparently a pretty famous place, rumored to be the longest continually operated jazz club in the world, having played host to any famous name you can think of (Charlie Parker, Sarah Vaughan, you name 'em). I've never actually been to a jazz club before, and not ever seen a band perform that has at least 15 musicians and be able to sit up close to watch them play. And from the moment we walked in the door, there was something so unique and intimate about having that many people playing in such a small area. It's been a long time since I've heard the sound of saxophones and trombones that weren't high schoolers playing them in a parade. Something enjoyable to experience. My favorite though, hands done was the drummer. Maybe because he was sitting closest to us, but I still can't figure out how one can get each hand and each leg to be working at entirely different beats, going in different directions, none at the same rate. Getting my two legs working in opposite directions to walk proves challenging enough for me sometimes. It was pretty amazing, and if I still had that flute I played in middle school....oh who am I kidding, I would have sold it off for parts a long time ago.
~ Friday, I was damn determined to stay in for the night, citing health requirements of a long restful sleep. It's a good thing I'm a pushover and decided to mend myself with vodka tonics instead. Ohhhh the vodka tonics. I met Kelly, Suzy, Shelly, and Shannon at Tom's for some pre-fun. After eats, a couple rounds, and a conversation involving the phrase, "Make a move or get out," we headed over to Cinq, a bar that I recall mentioning loving for its name alone. But that I think I love in general now, partly because on the flat screens around the bar, they had on Fight Club, and although you couldn't hear the sound, it was nice to occassionally look up and see Brad Pitt's chiseled abs adorning the walls. After Suzy and Shannon called it an early night, Kelly and took it upon ourselves to close the place down. I was genuinely surprised when the lights came on.
But holy crap did we have a blast. I remember having an extended long conversation with someone about running the marathon and about the 3-day walk. I got a couple compliments on my smile, which although pretty cliche, I seem to have gotten a lot lately. Rule of thumb though, you should be careful who you give your phone number to. Because if you're not careful, his friend may call you in the middle of the night after you've gotten home and passed out. And his friend may have the dirtiest mouth ever created. It's a good thing I'm not easily offended by four-letter words that start with "c". In fact it's a good thing that I would actually laugh out loud at that. Loud enough to probably piss off my neighbor downstairs. And if you're really lucky, the guy who originally got your number to won't call you at all.
~ When Amy and I were little, right around this time of year, our mom would go to the mall and pick up one of our most treasured items. The Wishbook. I don't even know what catalog it was (Sears? JC Penny?) but it was just called the Wishbook. And we would pour over the pages with the toys in it at least a couple hundred times. So much so that the pages must have been worn from zealous page-turning and the hope of 7-year olds. I can remember thinking about how I would play with the Barbies and fashion ensembles that were on those pages, as we would carefully craft our lists to Santa.
Things haven't changed all that much as a 25-year old, except now for me, the catalogs have changed to IKEA and any kind of scrapbook supply catalog. Because even now when I look at them, I envision my apartment with white Tullsta chairs and an Amiral birch veneer entertainment system. Or I envision the glorious, beautifully laid out pages of the scrapbook formulating in my head.
To get to the point here, yesterday, Amy hosted a scrapbooking party where after showing you some of the basics and the neat tools to facilitate scrapbooking, you get a catalog to shop to your heart's content. And more than anything that I actually purchased, I'm going to love the catalog the most -- you should see how worn the other catalogs I have are. It kind of sounds like porn doesn't it? But we had so much fun scrapbooking (you can stop laughing now, thanks) in spite of Kelly and I being so horribly hungover. It's can be difficult to actually assmeble photos when your hands are shaking uncontrollably from dehydration. After we went to dinner and we got our fill of fresh Mexican food!, we were feeling much better. Such a fun afternoon, and now everyday when I come home, I can run to the mailbox in anticipation of my corner rounder and tropical vacation sticker set.
~ The plan for yesterday night was to go see Bridget Jones's Diary 2. But apparently the stars were not aligned and the forces of fate were working against us big time. Kelly's computer has a virus where, the computer works, and you can still surf the net, but you can't type anything in. Which makes searching for movie times online impossible when you can't enter a zip code or city. And because we don't absorb advertising very well, we couldn't remember that magic number you can call for movie times. So out comes the archaic phone book. After calling movie theatre #1, the movie wasn't showing there. So we consult Suzy for suggestions on a different theatre. But movie theatre #2 isn't in the phone book, so we bite the bullet and pony up $1.75 to use the damn information service on Kelly's cell. Movie times: 8:10 and 10pm. The likelihood of two hungover girls making it awake until midnight, notgonnahappen. Likelihood of Suzy getting to the theatre by 8:10, notgonnahappen.
So Suzy opts not to go to the movie, and Kelly and I start shopping around for another, closer theatre. Theatre #3 is also not in the phone book so there goes another $1.75 for information. Movie times: 7:05 and 9:45pm. Both, notgonnahappen. So it's on to theatre #4 and another call to information. Theatre #4 isn't showing the movie, but the nice phone operator suggests theatre #5 which is showing the movie. Movie time: 8:45. Juuuusst right. So we make our own popcorn and buy pops, stash them in a big purse, and head out to theatre #5 over a half an hour early. At this point we've probably spent more time trying to figure out how/where/when to go see the movie that the actual length of the movie itself.
So you know what I'm going to say next right? Of course we get there (after I discover that I apparently cross streets without any regard for traffic lights), and the movie is already sold out. We would have stood on the sidewalk in stunned annoyance and disappointment a little longer if it wasn't so damn cold outside. So instead of fulfilling our mission, we went back to Kelly's and watched the first Bridget Jones instead. I was hoping for some miraculous mix-up and there would be an advance copy hiding in her DVD case, but no such luck. But it was ok, I can still laugh out loud at that one no matter how many times I've seen it.
Ok massively long entry written and studying effectively neglected. But this time, I really do have to study, or I will certainly fail my quiz tomorrow. From now on: more frequent. Shorter. Less time. More funny. Got it? Good.
11:20 AM
Thursday, November 11, 2004 Don't you know, they're talkin' about a revolution, it sounds, like a whisper....Apparently, the midget wasn't just standing on my chest, but had one foot on my larynx as well. Because my voice is slowly being reduced by decibels as the hours go by. Currently, I'm in the 80-year-old-lady-who-has-smoked-a-million-cigarettes-in-her-lifetime phase. Which is always awesome when attempting to return phone calls. Im expecting it to be down to nothing by the end of the day.
Things I should be doing on my day off:
~ Starting progress on my final beastly paper for one of my classes. I haven't even done the literature search for it yet, using the excuse, "Well, it doesn't make sense for me to do the literature search at home when I don't have a printer to print off the articles." To do #1: Skip.
~ Read the chapter and start studying for my biostats quiz on Monday. "But I have all day to do it. I work better on schoolwork in the evening." To do #2: Skip.
Sweet, looks like it's going to be a good day.
And in case you were curious, here's what I would look like as a South Park character.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004 Feels like a midget is hanging from my necklace....Almost everytime I get sick, it starts off as a sore throat that goes from being "not that bad" to "I can't swallow" within a couple hours. This is usually followed by a fever the same night and then the onslaught of the sinuses. But this little bug I seem to have acquired has taken a different approach. It literally feels like there's a little person (midget, dwarf, I'm not quite sure what the PC term is) standing on my chest. That, or someone is crushing the alveoli in my lungs like they're popping bubble wrap. But in spite of the lung problems, I'm surprisingly functional (functional enough to go to work. I take sick days for the weakest reason like, "being tired"). No runny nose, raspy cough, sore throat, fever, achy head. Just this strange kind of pressure. Like if there was a way to let the air out, like a tire, it might feel better. But I guess in reality probably not. Because wouldn't letting the air out just be exhaling? Something that one who works in a pulmonary department should probably know.
There are two (TWO!!) radio stations in Detroit that have changed over to 24 hours a day of Christmas music. And this has been in effect as of the 2nd of November. Less than two days after the kiddies (err....me) took the Halloween costumes off, it's time to get into the holiday spirit. Which I'm nowhere near just yet, with Thanksgiving still being a couple weeks away. (I admit to bringing my reindeer coffee mugs out of storage though -- hey, they're so damn cute, they need to get as much usage as possible,). So even though this early jolly spirit iritates me, since the other radio station suck so bad, I find myself pausing when I round those numbers on the dial. And it isn't so much the songs themselves as much as it is the warm fuzzy feeling that reminds me of Christmas Eve with my family. Even if I'm in the car on the way home from the grocery store singing George Michael at the top of my midget-standing lungs.
10:33 AM
Monday, November 08, 2004 So bring on the rain clouds and block out the moon, let the action begin....When I went for a walk on Saturday, I was walking past one of the parks in Royal Oak, and every leaf had been ravaged off the branches and weren't even pretty colors anymore. Just brown and crispy crunchy on the ground. But the smell of the park when I went by took me instantaneously back to raking leaves in my old friend, Christy's, backyard. Where somehow I could be fooled into thinking that the giant pile was actually soft, but I'd still get winded everytime I flopped in on my back and hit the ground. The smell was 100% staring up at the blue sunny fall sky and finding twigs and leaves in my hair hours after we had abandoned the rakes in the half-finished yard. It made me incredibly happy, and I finally feel as though I had a second to actually enjoy autumn instead of imaging what it feels like through plate glass hospital windows. It can now officially get cold now. Not that I'm rooting for it to or anything. But I may have just sneaked a peak at the forcast for the week, and I saw highs in the low 40s and figured I should just accept it.
BTW. Last night was the episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition that they taped nearby me. Andlemmetellya: sobfest. SOBFEST. I know I say this every week, but this wasn't just "get the kleenex" time, it was "calm down and take a deep breath" time. So freakin' good. If you missed it, I will be sure to be on top of the repeats when they show it again, because you need to spend 2 hours getting in touch with your emotions too.
10:42 PM
Saturday, November 06, 2004 It's all ahead of you, and you know what to do....My bedroom is on the south side of our house with two windows that cover a pretty fair amount of the wall. So now that the sun is back to the southern sky, it could not have been any sunnier in my room this morning. When I opened the door, it was as though I was announcing my entrance into the kitchen with heraldic celebration. Hey, I'm happy to be awake, and apparently everyone else should be too. And that's with my blinds closed too. I think opening them could cause blindness -- and the name of blinds becomes obvious. Sort of.
Well, I haven't nearly been in as bad of a mood as my straight-to-the-head-shrinker post on Wednesday would seem to have indicated. There were just a few things that collided all at once that bummed me out. And usually, they bother me on a constant basis, but more in a obnoxious-white-noise-buzz-in-the-background way, and I clearly can ignore things like every good member of my family can ("Because tomorrow is another day..."). But they all squeeked over into the sucking-a-little-too-much category. Like discovering that I will have to be at my job and in school until at least winter of '06. And discovering that a friend of mine moved away to a different state without bothering to tell me or say goodbye. Or feeling as though the facets of my personality had been copied in another friend for someone else's satisfaction (do you think I could write that sentence in code to make it any less clear?). So their level of persistent obnoxiousness has calmed back down, and I've actually had a pretty fun week. And since it's been a while, I've been saving up scores of randomness to indulge in.
~ Last weekend, I had the front door open long enough to catch a squirrel resting on top of my pumpkin on the porch. And the friggin' squirrel had a collar on. WTF? Everyone keeps asking me, "Are you sure it wasn't a cat or something?" Hello!!?? I think every child masters the bright colored photos of basic wildlife in, like kindergarten right? I think at 25 I can figure out what kind of member of the animal kingdom has the big bushy tail. So now in addition to the exotic white parrot that laughs at me from the trees, now we have a pet squirrel in my neighborhood too.
~ If I were to rate friends based on their willingness to hand off their canned goods to me, Kelly would be ranked right up there.
~ Kelly would also be ranked right up there in willingness to hang out on a Friday afternoon drinking rum and hot cider and making butterscotch ("Scotchity scotch scotch scotch") oatmeal cookies. After letting one of the batches cool, we went to take them off the cookie tray when I had to comment, "Why is that one cookie smoking?" Well, cookies will in fact smoke if you put the tray on top the still-turned-on burner that you used for the hot cider. So we lost a soldier in the cookie-making process. But still an excellent way to spend an afternoon. I highly recommend it.
~ Are you ready for me to ruin a perfectly good song for you? (note: "perfectly good" certainly up for debate). Ryan Cabrera's song is not in fact a sweet love song about someone who he found and fell for. It's about Jesus. Everytime I listen to it after having learned that, I don't get the "Awww, he must just be the greatest guy to say those kinds of things to a girl," feeling. Instead it's more, "Hey, he loves Jesus." Which isn't a bad thing, but usually just makes me flip past it a little quicker. No Christian rock for me thanks.
~ To keep the fun Friday afternoon rollin' into evening, I headed out to Brighton to be one of the non-teacher crashers on Mexican fiesta game night with Amy and her fellow teachers. And I had been there for no more than a half an hour when I conciously thought, "This is way better than anything else I would be doing tonight." I think I can safely say that everyone had a great time last night. I know I definitely did. And considering that I don't hang out with large groups of teachers on a regular basis, I was initially a little overwhelmed at the noise volume and everyone's ability to project their voice to be heard over a loud group, but it was actually kind of fun after a while. Because you are inherently more animated when you're loud, so imagine 9 really animated individuals, and that was the entire evening. And I learned more about the quality programming of the Lifetime network (complete with Nancy McKeon, Meredith Baxter Birney-all three names, and Jaqueline Smith) than I had ever known. There were some of the most heated, manic moments of Catchphrase and Hoopla ever seen! Where apparently throwing/spiking the catchphrase thing at the person sitting next to you is a good way to throw them off. And apparently the words "jerk" and "hillbilly" are synonyms. And apparently "deep throat" isn't too naughty of a phrase to have in a game that impressionable children might be playing. Good times, good times.
Well, as I mentioned. Gorgeous! Sunny! Brilliant! Brisk! Autumn! All waiting for me just outside the windows! Have a great day!
BTW. If you haven't (which you should), go read Observances of a Stick. She's wicked funny and her post from Friday will certainly make you laugh out loud. It did it for me.
11:43 AM
Wednesday, November 03, 2004 Don't be sad....I honestly think that there is something wrong with me. I'm trying to self-diagnose, and it's not working too well. But there are a million and one things that have crawled under my skin lately, and it seems that no matter what I do, I can't shake them off. I'm trying to plod through my everyday, but it's getting increasingly difficult. I can't quite figure out at what point I went from being continually happy, upbeat, and optimistic about life's endless possibilities and amusements to saying "fuck it" to everything. Oh the rant I could start right now, but I won't even bother expending the energy. Fuck it.
1:03 PM
